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Published: October 23, 2011
Description: Donald writes about what choosing a Halloween costume with his teenage daughter would be like.

I can’t imagine what it would be like shopping for a Halloween costume today. I haven’t worn an outlandish outfit in years (well, I did wear a dress during a pizza break during Here’s To Love! – but again, we’re going to stick with the Halloween topic people). I’m very much a jeans and t-shirt kind of guy. It seems a lot of people out there try to pick Halloween costumes that make them look sexy. I have to admit I’ve been guilty of that in the past (to successful and less successful degrees) but I have to say, I can’t imagine being a parent of a teenage girl having the Halloween costume conversation.

There we’d be, me and my loving daughter Shaneeqwa (she’d be white, but of fierce spirit) all close and happy together as we enter the costumer store. One minute we’re laughing together, talking about boys and drinking Starbucks and the next moment we’re having a very serious conversation about what is and isn’t appropriate for a thirteen year old girl to wear.

“You should go as a witch.” I say, suggesting the long black dress and broomstick.

“What about this?” She replies, pointing to a hooker costume on the wall.

“Hmmm. It’s definitely an option sweetie, for some people. Not you. And besides, hookers are out this year.”

“Oh Daddy,” She laughs. “That’s Ke$ha, not a hooker.”


I stare at the costume. How could I have missed the dirt-smeared face and oily hair.


While there’s not much fabric to the costume the make-up and wig aren’t included and I don’t have that type of money. Shaneeqwa knows that and she backs off her point like the well-raised girl she is.



“How about this one?” I suggest.

“Dad. I’m not going as the Hamburglar.”

“People love the Hamburglar.”

“Not happening. What about this?”

“I don’t know sweetheart. A french maid? What if people confuse you for the help and start getting you to clean their house? You don’t want that. The Hamburglar, that’s a winner.”

Eventually our conversation would deteriorate until we’re both in tears and our relationship completely destroyed to the point that only years of therapy and prescription drugs can repair, but only after many painful, lost and lonely years.

That’s why I don’t have children. Really, it’s the absolute only reason :)